British Baroque: Power And Illusion review: An insightful show

British Baroque: Power And Illusion

Tate Britain, London                                                                                 Until April 19

Rating:

The baroque was a big, bombastic style that largely passed Britain by. That’s the traditional view, anyway – that innate British modesty and reserve held it in check. A new exhibition at Tate Britain, however, suggests the baroque did find a way to flourish here.  

The over-the-top brilliance wasn’t, it’s argued, confined to France and Rome.

Sadly, two of the movement’s big names – the Flemish pair Rubens and Van Dyck – don’t feature, despite both having spent important spells in London. They died before the period under consideration – 1660 to 1714 – though surely they warrant a place in the opening room, if only to set the scene.

The show begins with the restoration of Charles II, after the Commonwealth rule of Oliver Cromwell. The baroque was a style that wholly suited his purposes, celebrating his status as monarch in exaggerated terms. 

In Antonio Verrio’s The Sea Triumph Of Charles II, the king is depicted as a modern-day Neptune, bestriding the ocean waves on a huge, shell-shaped chariot. Soon, other men at court were looking to celebrate themselves through baroque painting. 

In James, Duke Of York (by Henri Gascar), the heir to the throne (and future James II) is depicted in the most preposterous pink robe, gold armour and jewelled sandals.

James was a Catholic, and the curators do a fine job setting out the religious tensions in Britain at the time. These came to a head with the ‘Popish Plot’ of 1678, when Catholic dissidents were accused – with deadly reprisals – of plotting to assassinate Charles II.

Broadly speaking, baroque art was more at home in Catholic environs than in pared-back, Protestant ones.

This is an insightful show, but it has one fundamental problem: that the greatest triumphs of British baroque can’t be shown in a gallery.

From St Paul’s Cathedral to Blenheim Palace, these triumphs were buildings, not paintings. Our leading baroque figures were architects: Sir Christopher Wren and Sir John Vanbrugh, to name but two. 

Many architectural plans and drawings are on display, but these are obviously no match for the real thing.

Hanging on the final wall is The Whig Junto, a group portrait of six chubby politicians formulating policy at a table. It’s rather a muted end to a show about a movement that was anything but muted. 

The painting dates from 1710, the same year Wren completed St Paul’s.